


Whispers of the wind

by aneta



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Character Study, F/M, Hopeful Ending, Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-09
Updated: 2015-03-09
Packaged: 2018-03-17 04:15:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3515003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aneta/pseuds/aneta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What would push Clarke over the edge once the war is over? When the battle is won but death lingers? When the one person she could rely on wasn´t standing by her side? (A bit of a lyrical character study with hopeful ending, don´t worry ;))</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whispers of the wind

**Author's Note:**

> So... this fic is short, lyrical (I guess that´s the closest thing I can call it) and angsty, but with hopeful ending, don´t worry ;) Also, basically it´s my first fanfiction but I have been writing stories my whole life, so hopefully someone will enjoy it :) I honestly can´t stop thinking about this show and I have to let all those emotions out somehow. I am pretty sure I am not alone, considering how dedicated this wonderful fandom is!

After everything was done, after everything was over, they brought him back.

 

Over. It was over. It was hard to think like that, hard to accept the finality that kind of statement brings. She should have been glad the weight of the world was not on her shoulders anymore, and not ever again, god please, just let her be consumed by the emptiness. Let her rest for once. But the thing was... she couldn´t. She missed him, feeling cold because his fire was not by her side.

When she came to the medical centre, everyone fell silent for a moment; and for that one second she would swear she shattered into a million tiny pieces – how ironic, she didn´t think there was anything left to be broken in her. They were exchanging worried looks, she could see them in the corner of her eye, but there was a magnetic pull that lead her eyes to him, always him. She saw Bellamy – or what was left of him – in bed. And he didn´t move, galaxies of freckles that marked his skin disappeared in paleness and blood. White and red. She was sick of red. She would never get rid of the smell of blood either.

 

 

Ultimately, she was the one that got him killed; of course it had to be her. She always knew where this was heading and she still sent him away.

 

 

He was just laying there, almost unrecognizable under the blood – so much blood – and countless cuts that marked his skin. They deconstructed him, like some kind of human toy and then tried to patch him up only so they could take even more from him later. And she just stood there, not blinking, not being able to do much of anything. _I am responsible for that. All that blood is on my hands._ So she just stood there with ice in her veins and forgetting her own name because _Bellamy, Bellamy, Bellamy..._ The man made of fire found his end in heart protected by ice.

 

_Some say the world will end in fire,_

_Some say in ice._

_From what I’ve tasted of desire_

_I hold with those who favor fire._

_But if it had to perish twice,_

_I think I know enough of hate_

_To say that for destruction ice_

_Is also great_

_And would suffice._

 

They won a war. And it only cost her part of her soul.

 

She didn´t realise she was backing up from the room until she heard rushed voice of her mother. “Clarke, honey... wait. He´s-“

She couldn´t stay to hear those words. All of a sudden she found herself running and the world was getting blurry until it almost disappeared completely. She ran fast, faster than she ever imagined herself capable of. The burn in her muscles bringing her satisfaction, until her legs gave out on her. Only then she realised she was at the cliff, the very same one Charlotte threw herself off.

 

Death, death everywhere.

 

She collapsed on its edge and there was only one word, one thought, one name echoing in her head. He was the only constant in her life and they took him from her. But the truth? The truth was she took him from herself. It wasn´t supposed to be him, it was never supposed to be him.

In the end, there was only one thing she had left strength for; she screamed at the top of her lungs into the depths of the canyon, her throat hurting with the sheer force of her pain, of her despair, of her guilt. It wasn´t a human sound and the canyon held it´s echo, vibrating, always bringing it back, never allowing it to die off.

 

The forest fell silent, almost respectful to her mourning, but the wind didn´t care; it kissed her on the lips and took her screams _away, away, away_... all the way back to the camp.

 

It was in that moment that Bellamy´s eyes snapped open, his mouth soundlessly forming one word.

 

And the wind just laughed, taking his breath away and carrying the message through the forest.

Once he reached her, she was reminded of her own name.

**Author's Note:**

> I kinda personified the wind, hence the use of “he”, but I am not really sure how personification works in English, but I did write it purposefully.
> 
> I also really, really don´t want Bellamy injured again, he can´t be almost dead every season finale lol. Come talk to me on Tumblr (alwaysdreamingofmiracles), I will be dead after finale haha
> 
> Any kind of feedback would make me happy, it would make my day so much better :)


End file.
